Gareth Barry to Liverpool: Nowt like a jolly transfer saga

Jul 17 2008 Andy Proudfoot Liverpool Daily Post

THERE’S no doubting this year’s ‘must have’ for the Big Four. As the Premier League’s commercial giants search for new ways in which they can differentiate their product, widen the gap between themselves and the chasing pack, and stoke the media fires that maintain their brand positioning, there appears to be one essential means to maintain spectator interest and keep the back pages buzzing: The Transfer Saga.

The future residence of Barry, Ronaldo, Lampard and Adebayor has generated endless column inches of coverage in the last month or more, as the players, their agents, managers, officials and PR spokesmen seem incapable of maintaining a dignified silence and insist on playing out their negotiations in the full glare of public scrutiny.

Some of you may yearn for the days when transfers were simple affairs: the manager of some lowly club would call a player in after training, and say something like “tha’d better get theeself up to Liverpool, lad – Mr Shankly would like to speak to you”.

A short train ride later, with his boots in a paper bag, the grateful player would sign a contract for a pittance, and head for a club B&B where Mrs Muggins would take him under her wing and take most of his wages in board and lodging.

Now it’s a succession of brief and counter-brief, leak and counter-leak, as clubs or players take up adversarial stances and seek to gain public support for their position.

These sagas do serve one important purpose however; and that’s to expose the slender grip on reality that is held by many of the participants in the modern day game.

The Ronaldo affair is a classic of its type. We’ve had the Real Madrid President declaring that United should be ‘honoured’ to sell him to Madrid; Ronaldo himself has stated that he should be allowed to leave as a ‘reward’ for helping them win a double last season; and both Sepp Blatter and the man himself think that ‘slavery’ is typified by a wage of more than £120,000 a week and working part-time. Kunta Kinte he’s not.

Now a lad of good socialist stock such as me will always defend a man’s right to work for the employer of his choice; but I also understand the law of contract, and nobody’s suggested that poor Cristiano was press-ganged and forced to sign his current lucrative deal with the threat of a blackjack hanging over him. Even Fergie’s not that deranged.

Move on now to Stamford Bridge, the Land of Silk and Money. Frank Lampard expresses his undying love for the club and his gratitude for their understanding during his recent bereavement, by apparently insisting they should pay him £130,000 per week when he’s 34 going on 35, and barely able to chew his own food, never mind notch 25 lucky deflections a season.

Best nip off to Milan then Frank, where you’ll be really appreciated by fans who would get right behind you – though if your form dips, I’d try to keep them in front of you.

And even Professor Wenger’s Arsenal Academy is not immune to the insanity that seems to affect all during the phenomenon that is the transfer window.

The miscreant here is one Emmanuel Adebayor, who seemingly has the power to hold two contradictory opinions at the same time: he’s definitely staying, but nothing is settled yet. Pull up a seat at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.

Thankfully our very own saga with regard to Gareth Barry is being handled calmly, sensitively and with rational behaviour on all sides. You don’t think so? Oh well, at least our man is desperate to come to us, not desperate to leave.